


Doctor Who - Colepaldi RPF - Stay With Me

by Samstown4077



Series: Colepaldi Collection [55]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Face the Raven, Friendship, Humour, RPF, Sad, Suppressed Feelings, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-04 00:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5313764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samstown4077/pseuds/Samstown4077
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr Prompt; can you write a RPF about the last scenes in Face the Raven between Peter and Jenna? An interpretation of the events before, while and after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor Who - Colepaldi RPF - Stay With Me

**Author's Note:**

> I got message from two different Anons, to write about this scene, and so I did and it was not easy and I was very sad and it ripped out my heart, as I had to rewatch this darn scene over and over again. Also I think I managed to come in lightly, make it dramatic and leave you with not too many sad feels. But don't be mistaken, it was a hard thing to write!
> 
> I usually don't tell you how to read my stories, but here I advice you to look exactly (while the Face the Raven dialogue) what I put in italics and what not.
> 
> This is pure fictional and RPF.

It was not their final scene. It was one of many still to come. The day had been relaxed, they had filmed with two ravens, what was exciting for everyone. Peter and Jenna had reunited with Maisie and Joivan and they had all good fun together. They were at ease.

They knew their lines, they had heard them while the read through, they had rehearsed them there. They had rehearsed them the day before in a quiet moment, sitting first in their stools and then — only to see how it would work out with the hugging, hence their height difference — standing their.

“Why are you so small?” he teases.

“Why are you an idiot?” she pulls him down.

“Space idiot, if you please!” he rests his head somehow against her head and half her shoulder, so the camera would later be able to film her face and not only the back of his neck. His hands slowly come around her waist while they talk.

“Oh, it’s okay _now_ that we put ‘space’ in front of everything, after all?” she pats him on the back, holding him tight. It’s her way of shutting him up.

And so he keeps quiet and waits for her to start. And waits, and nothing happens. The situation is a bit weird and he doesn’t know what to do. His hands span around her waist, giving gentle pressure, “Uhm.”

Her grip around him tightens, preventing him from breaking away, “I forgot my lines.”

“Ah,” he breathes out and then in, and is slightly intoxicated by her perfume. Or maybe it’s the position that is a bit uncomfortable for a man his height. “I thought so.”

“No, you didn’t,” she smirks into his shoulder, using her teacher voice on him, and she likes how he tenses under her.

“Do you need a peek?” he asks, and thinks about what would happen if he would dare and grab her with his arms, lift her from the ground, to come back into an upright position. He doesn’t dare.

“A peek?”

“Into the script,” he explains long drawn out and waves with his hand toward his stool, where the script lays. What she can’t see of course, but she can feel he is doing something with his hand, before it comes back around her.

“No, I got this,” she lets go of him for a moment, and he sighs happily that he can stretch himself for a moment, before she pulls him back into the hug.

“That’s torture,” he mumbles.

“Shut up,” they both say at the same time and she grins, and he looks around with rolling eyes, as if he waits for someone to jump out and take an embarrassing picture.

“Actually,” she then begins, and he anticipates bad news, “you have to start.”

He grabs her by the shoulders, and breaks away, staring at her in disbelieve. Then his left eyebrow goes up, followed by the right one, “Quite right.”

She smirks, and he wiggles with his head a bit, one of his curls falls into his forehead.

Then he begins, and she pulls him into the hug again, not without a groan, she only comments with, “If you do this while filming…”

“Have a little trust,” he grins, peaking her sides with two fingers and she jumps apart from him.

“Why should I?”

He raises one hand, “Academy Award Winner,” and underlines his words with a gesture.

“That was for directing,” her arms cross in front of her, all unimpressed and Peter shrugs non-committally. Followed by a ‘ _spoilsport’,_ a pursing of his lips and a little smoulder. Then finally they finish their little rehearsing. The lines sit in their heads, and the only thing left is to discuss the gestures. The tone, the actual acting, the spirit of the whole scene.

It will be sad, there is no doubt, that’s the reason why they joke so much around these days. They always joke around, do silly jokes — just a few week ago she had printed herself a mask with a special face, after Peter had teased her to the end of her nerves about who would replace her.

She had found it rather funny, but Peter didn’t laugh a bit. He did later, also realizing that she indeed was able to fire back, when he was able to wind her up. After that he never mentioned the name ever again.

The next day they stand there, lines ready, emotions about to rise without any preparation. They start with Ashildr wanting to take the chronolog from Rigsy, and so it goes forward bit by bit. Hour by hour. They repeat their texts often, as certain angles has to be filmed.

And so it is with Peter’s and Jenna’s final scene. First they film her standing in front of him, talking, then her hugging him, then him standing in front of her, then while she is hugging him.

With every take Peter gets more mad at Ashildr, with every take he puts more emotion into the words, and in the end he almost yells at Jenna;

“ _You should never have to ask!”_

His eyes have red rims around by now, and for a second she forgets they are acting and thinks he will cry any moment, but she composes herself. She never knows what he will do, they had discussed several ideas, but sometimes he just throws everything overboard and goes a new way.

When the camera is on her, and not on him, she still can see all those emotions in his eyes, and it literally kills her bit by bit. They hadn’t had a break since an hour and they won’t make one now — using the moment, the heated up situation is everything.

“ _You. Listen. You’re going to be alone now and you’re very bad at that. You’re going to be furious and you’re going to be sad, but listen to me. Don’t let this change you.”_

How does she do it, he asks in silence, making him not slip away just like that. Letting him out of the scene, as he is not visible to the camera. Twelve is, but he is not, and yet, he is here, with her.

‘ _You, Peter! Listen!’_ and he knows, he will be alone soon, and he might not will be bad with that, but he might have a bad day or two about it.

“ _What about_ me _?”_

“ _If there was something I could do about that,_ I would _.”_

“ _Clara…”_ He is actually glad his line ends here, and she pulls him in, because there was a tiny chance he got broken by it.

‘Jenna…,’ he thinks, while his hands come around her waist again.

“ _Everything you have to say,_ I already know _. Don’t do it now. We’ve had enough bad timing,”_ she feels his hands press against her, and for a second she loses her concentration. Then, when they hear the raven’s cry, they have to break away from each other.

“ _Don’t run,” the Doctor begins._ “Stay with me,” Peter ends.

The rims around his eyes are red, and Jenna has to admit it is the most touching thing she has ever seen and heard. The heartbreaking way he is able to smile over the tears that form in the corners of his eyes, only she can see, it works with her emotions.

Her soft chuckle, the gentle, knowing look in her eyes is genuine, he thinks. There is a part in his heart that aches so hard in this moment, even he know this is not the end. Not of Jenna and Peter, and yet his heart breaks apart a little more when she tells him that it will hurt him, and her hand lands on his cheek.

They had this before, but this now, it feels different, and _it is_ different. It’s new, she hadn’t told him she would do it, not exactly. Only something like “ _I could reach out to you”_.

He leans into the touch, he must, the need to do it, it is overpowering. Not blinking, not looking away, keeping the connection for as long as possible, and so does she.

He can’t say it for sure, but he thinks a sob escapes his lips when he reaches for her small hand, bringing it from his face close to his mouth. He holds her hands tight between is large ones.

The embrace of his hands are warm and comforting, and the moment his long fingers come around hers, she spans her own around his palm. In a few seconds she has to let go of him, and can’t imagine how to do it.

The kiss is gentle. She feels his breath, and aside it goes by way too quickly, she can feel he takes his time. He is savouring the moment, the pressure of his hands gets firmer, he is telling her that he not wants to let her go. It’s subtle, and written all over his face. His face, not the Doctor’s face. Hard to detect, as they share the same face, but she knows, she sees, she ever has, always will.

That’s the thing with acting, you can act all you like, but when there is no connection, someone will see. When there is, the emotions mix up. They float between him and her, and the truth is, he not wants to let her go, not the character, his friend and when she steps away from him, breaking free with her hand, there is a part of him she takes with her.

The scene ends there. With him stepping one step forward, and only one.

An hour later they will stand in the street, and Jenna concentrates so hard onto the raven that she forgets to react and he is being childish, imitating the raven behind her. Everything is back to normal. Them being relaxed, them being silly.

In between, they have a break, not because of them, but because of the ravens, and they don’t know at first what to do with each other and with themselves.

He feels teary and dislikes it, biting his thumb to overcome it. She feels overwhelmed and that’s why she fiddles with her fingers and plays with the hem of her shirt, till he points out to her, “You’ll rip it.”

“I won’t,” she says short, almost strict, not looking at him at first.

“You okay?” he steps a bit closer.

“Sure,” she nods, and tries not to see the red around his eyes.

They are still there — faint. She had seen him turn around after the cut, making grimaces, and taking a few deep breathes — what one just does to urge tears away, getting a grip again.

He could say something, but they have said it all already. With and without words. It wouldn’t help, it would bring them nothing. Next week she is back on set, and the week after she will be still there. There is still time, nothing lost yet. And there he would like to ask whatever could be lost between them. He knows the answer. It’s just that sometimes one likes to hear things out loud. Even he.

She reflects for a moment, on him, the situation and the last two years. There are days she can’t remember one moment with him, and then she has days, she isn’t able to choose out of the many that buzz around in her head.

One reporter once asked her about her favourite moment. In the Tardis presumably, but she had so many other memories that had nothing to do with the Tardis — not directly.

She can’t remember anymore what she had answered, probably something like ‘ _I liked being with Peter in the Tardis, fighting aliens’_. Not a lie, also not very clear. It could mean anything, or nothing, depending how one turns the words.

There are so many stories, untold, seared into her heart, and she knows she can be without him, and he can be without her.

She will send him silly text messages and he will need forever to text back, because he still has trouble with emojis.

He will always call her his favourite companion, no matter what, even she knows he has a hang for Jo Grant and the Doctor’s granddaughter.

It’s in the details, always was, always will.

Whatever they will do in their lives and their careers, how far apart they will be, there will always be this one point they will share.

Doctor Who.

Peter and Jenna in the Tardis.

He smiles at her, half mischievous, half insecure about her and the situation, “Coffee? Or biscuits?” he wavers with his hand from left to right, “Biscuits _and_ coffee?”

“You fetching?” she smiles back, and he rewards her with a smoulder.

“I’m…,” he sees she can remember. A rainy street in Cardiff, it had been a cold day. He had done a lot that day to make her smile. “Of course, I’m fetching.”

He gives her a big grin and then walks on, spreading his arms, fluttering them up and down, and imitates the croaking of a raven — at least he tries, “Krahw, Krahw.”

She snorts with laughter, before giving him a soft push from behind, “I can’t believe you stultify my death scene!”

“You not die for real!” he makes a very dramatic gesture with his hand, like presenting a fact she had forgotten, onto his open palm. “You’ll regenerate. And become Queen Victoria.”

“That’s, actually, _not_ the story arc, Moffat told me about,” Jenna walks backwards while she talks with him. “You might mixing things up here, Doctor.”

“Oh, whatever,” he says after a bit, almost afraid she will fall over something walking like this. “You know what the Doctor said.”

“What did the Doctor say?”

Peter stops, huffs, closes his eyes and stares at the ceiling, almost in agony, “Oh, what was it…,” again he wavers with his hand, peeking at her with one eye, hoping she would spare him this real life embarrassment, “... something about _me_ letting _you_ into my heart and … some other stuff I _really_ can’t remember now.”

In the end she takes pity on him, “You are ... ,” he raises his eyebrows, ready to leap at her when she says something that will be teasing, “a dork,” again he grins, being proud to be one. She turns around then again, “And, by the way, it said _head_ not heart.”

“Mh?”

“The Doctor let Clara Oswald into his head, not heart,” she explains patiently.

“Yes, I know,” he shrugs, and now they finally have reached the catering tent, he sneaks around the offer of different sweets, “I don’t have dementia yet.”

There it hits her, while he is about to reach for a strawberry muffin, watching him peel the paper down, “You weren’t talking about — ,”

“ — , No,” he lowers the sweet a bit, watching at her, his head slightly tilted. “I didn’t talk about Clara Oswald,” she can’t believe the way he says Clara is still making her shiver, “Spare us the embarrassment. You know anyway, don’t you?” he brings his concentration back to the muffin and takes a big bite, and only for having an excuse to not answer anymore.

Again she laughs, over him, having trouble with his mouth full.

He is right, she knows. She always will.

 

 

 

  


 

**Author's Note:**

> Krawh! Krawh! I hope I didn't left you all to drained and hopefully you are able to leave a message or a comment or a kudo, in case you liked this one.
> 
> Thanks for the read!


End file.
